Better Left Unsolved
Everett Kingston is slowly drifting away from everyone at high school, and it's not for the best. He has no memory of the first ten years of his life, due to a terrible accident which remains unknown to him, causing amnesia. With no explanation, this inspired his love for the unknown. While solving the most simplest of cases, he is slowly beginning to fail his classes due to ditching school for his detective needs. But when a girl in his homeroom class goes missing, he takes it upon himself to find her, and solve the mystery one way or another. But he will uncover more than he ever expected to ever know, which could change his life completely, forever. Main Characters *Everett Kingston *Trevor Danish *Sonya Reisenheart Chapters Chapter 01: Chapter 01: His fine hazel eyes darted directly into mine, as we shared a seemingly awkward eye contact. From a neutral standpoint, my observations states that he looked up to me as a role model, as I was one of the very few people to have ever accepted him for who he is. He was always grateful, but with his noticeable quirks which defined his persona as he stood out from the inner crowd. In his lumpy hands was a lead pencil, sharpened perfectly to which anymore would simply snap the lead inside it, and he had always forgotten to bring a sharpener with him. Watching him scramble, even attempting to cut through the lead with his scissors was somewhat one of my guilty pleasures of our friendship. He spoke, in his generally medium pitched voice, "So, how did you find out that Leon cheated on his math exam?" I noticed him, as he watched my mouth's movement from time to time, inventively, just eager to find out what happened. He had his pencil ready to scribble into his notebook, as he had a somewhat creepy obsession with many of the things I have done in my life. Should I tell him the answer, or keep him scrambling, eager to seek the answer by other means? His unusual sense for drawing comics about day to day mysteries that I solve always brought a smile onto my otherwise pale and emotionless face. He was one of the few people that had actually appreciated my hard work, and I could tell my long thinking process was annoying him, as he wanted to know the answer now. His chubby fingers tapped the pencil onto the notebook in a faster tune, and this was one of the signs which deduced that he was becoming impatient, which was a common tendency of him. Before his thick lips could mutter another word, I cut him off instantaneously, and begun to elaborate on my genius hypothesis. "Leon," my eyes darted back into the direction of his, as sharing eye contact while discussing my work was a habit of mine, changing the mood into one more serious, "never worked well in class. He appeared to have Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, which after a light interrogation with his parents came quick to my mind. His attention span was incredibly low for someone his age, and never payed attention in class... and as you can see... he wasn't much of an independent worker." "Everett, my man," I looked back at Trevor's hazel eyes, after staring off into the overcast sky which hinted at some subtle rain sometime in the afternoon which would block out much of the heat, "you are the perfect protagonist. Speaking in your jargon crap, showing no mercy or whether someone's feelings and privacy could be in jeopardy with your questions... raw intellect..." I could tell as he drifted off into some kind of fantasy in his mind, which is when he looked away with a gaping smile on his face. "You're the perfect protagonist!" He announced, as he begun to jot down more of his planning into his notebook. "I mean, you've got great skill sets, rounded off with flaws which don’t make you seem much like a Gary-Stu... I've already got plans for the next chapter of my fan manga about you! But no homo of course!" He rubbed his hand on the back of his head, which he did in nervous times based on my observations. I have noticed and recognized very many of his habits, some of which he never noticed himself. "But," I began to object, "What’s so fascinating about my life? Someone's got to do what I must do." He looked back at me, as he begun to make his demands. "First of all, that really doesn't matter. It interests me, so be it! And second of all, I want to know a whole lot more about your Leon prosecution matters! I mean, this manga, made by moi, needs a 'lil inspiration." "Well then," I softly chuckled at his remarks, and looked back at his shaggy brown hair, which was increasingly knotted and greasy and flakes of dandruff begun to slip onto his eyebrows and then I realised I was thinking off topic, "Leon's a part of the football team, which is stereotypical at least, unless I'm mistaken, correct?" I began to lead him onto my path of deducing the mystery. "They all have their own lockers by the shower room. So during practice after school-" Before I could even finish that sentence of mine, I was immediately cut off by him. It was an idiosyncrasy of mine to explain everything to someone at once, then allow them to question after. This completely caught me off guard, and was one of the very few times in my life in which I had been infuriated to some extent. Glancing at me, with his left eyebrow typically raised here showing some concern, he asked me a question as I inventively listened. "Please explain why you're in the guys... change room. They shower in there, bro! But hey, I always had my suspicions about you..." I watched as he rested his hand on his chin. “You’ve got a knack for immaturity,” I stared back at him, and he could immediately sense me shooting daggers at him subliminally, “shall I continue?” He nodded his head, and began to be even more intrigued by the tale, which was precisely what happened, and is non-fiction. “Continuing on,” I muttered, and swallowed some of my own fresh saliva as I continued to elaborate, “while they were on the field, he left his locker door open, and in an unsurprising twist, he left his phone there.” He shot back another reply, once again questioning me before I even got the chance to finish talking, slightly infuriating me again. “So,” he pondered, “what does his phone have to do with anything? It’s just a device, dude…” I raised my palm to my forehead, and shook my head in an annoyed and disappointed manner, which caused him to roll his hazel eyes in a full revolution. “As I was saying,” I glanced back over to him, using common courtesy while conversing, “his phone did not have a password on it, which should be a common security and privacy tool to be utilised. To my luck, he was already in his photos, which when unlocking his phone, already brought me to. He was idiotic enough to still have the photograph of the answers to a test from the teacher’s cabinet, which he had seemingly snuck into. Then, I publically denounced him yesterday.” Speaking of this brought back memories of how great I felt during that, especially being empowered, and it was another one of my various guilty pleasures to seek revenge from those. In this case, he always attempted to drag down my limited feelings, commonly deconstructing and metaphorically defecating on my precious time I had used to solve many mysteries. While many people still didn’t waste their time even listening to my case, I did, however, cause him to fail the test, though the jocks did especially look down on me. But it doesn’t matter to me, really. “Dude,” I could feel the envy running down his spine, as he rested his hand on my shoulder, squinting his eyes as he gave me quite a serious look, which he rarely ever does or achieves being intimidating, “you should have left it to a day in which I was actually at school!” “Dude,” I spoke in a mocking tone to his distinct loud voice, “maybe you shouldn’t have participated in truancy.” His face was as red as beetroot, which is a horrible expression, but fit rather perfectly in this matter. He adjusted hair, as the sunlight beamed into his eyes, and he was obviously guilty in this matter. “B-b-but,” he stuttered, as he nervously replied, “I was… sick…” He gulped, which I could easily hear. Thinking back, he began to remember his investigations on what various people did while absent from school. “If visiting your friend’s house to play video games in his basement is what you define as ill, I think you should seek medical advice.” “Hey,” his voice was noticeably louder, and seemed to have cracked as he defended himself, not wanting me to uncover the truth, “what about that time you ditched school to find out who stole that little girl’s tricycle last year?” Once again, memories were brought back at the time in which a girl, with an estimated age of eight, had her tricycle taken off her right in her sight. I tracked down the boy who stole it, and he and his friends dismantled it. He couldn’t have been older than twelve, and had a smug and somewhat sassy personality to say the least. It wasn’t the hardest case, but explaining to her why she would never see the tricycle again was the challenge. “It was a good deed,” I stated from the bottom of my heart, knowing that it was the right thing to do. Trevor’s face had gone back to his regular colour, as the blushing in guilt had faded away. He begun to write down more in his notebook, and the writing was illegible from my current standpoint. “Ah, your statements to which no one can ever properly refute… man, am I catching a case of nerd with your vocab!” I raised an eyebrow at his statements. “Nerd, I may be,” I shrugged my shoulders, and wasn’t affected by his bold claims, “but have a fine look in the mirror.” It was easy to sense his infuriation with my remarks, and suddenly, everything begun to be quiet. This